The Hard Way
by Sonya
Summary: Set after the movie. Kaylee has broken up with Simon and left the ship. "When Zoe finally found him, he was sitting in a bar, nursing what was obviously the latest in a long line of drinks."


Recipient: Free 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

And super special thanks to inalasahl for the speedy beta work. She's the greatest! \o/

* * *

Translations:

yi da tuo dabian - a big pile of shit

ge ge - big brother familiar

* * *

When Zoe finally found him, he was sitting in a bar, nursing what was obviously the latest in a long line of drinks. His hair was a tangled mess, and his shirt was half untucked. His eyes were watery and rimmed with red. For most of the people she associated with, this wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but for Simon Tam, it was one step away from total chaos. To say she was worried would be an understatement.

She sat down on the barstool next to him and pursed her lips, waiting for him to notice her presence.

She didn't have to wait long.

"What're you doing here?" he demanded, a scowl darkening his features. "Did the captain send you to check up on me? Can't have his only doctor off getting into trouble, can he?"

"Nobody sent me," she replied, though it wasn't entirely the truth. Sure'n nobody had actually told her to come fetch the doc, but she knew the captain like she did the back of her hand, and he'd been worried. Too busy to actually do the looking himself, but worried all the same. River couldn't go, as her face was still too recognizable, even a year after the events on Miranda. Inara was with a client, and Jayne, well... Jayne was predictably Jayne-like about the whole thing. He'd flat out refused to help, and then suggested they leave the doctor behind if he was so set on staying and split his share of the take between them that was left.

"Hmph," Simon scoffed, turning back to the half-empty drink that sat in front of him. He took a large gulp, a trickle of the amber-colored liquid escaping his mouth and running down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and shot her a sullen look. "Well, you can go back to the ship. I don't want your pity."

Zoe arched an eyebrow. "If you think I spent half the night hunting you down just because of pity, then you don't know me very well."

He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that reminded her of herself, once upon a time. It was not a comforting feeling.

"So… what? You think you can understand what I'm going through?" he demanded, his voice cracking as it rose in pitch. A few people sitting nearby looked up, curious about all of the racket, but the look she gave them would've chilled ice, and they quickly went back to their own affairs.

Simon was oblivious. He finished his drink and slammed it down on the bar, waving the bartender over for another one. "Nobody can understand."

She gave him a pointed look, arms crossed and mouth drawn down into a tight line. "You might want to rethink that. Or have you forgotten who you're talking to? You ain't the only one that knows what it's like to lose somebody."

His gaze flicked back over to her, and something resembling contrition passed over his features for a brief moment before he sighed and looked down at his hands. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

She shook her head. "Of course you did," she replied, leaning one elbow on the bar as she studied him. Before he could make any noises to the contrary, she added, "But this ain't about me. It's about you. So I'll let it slide for now."

He stared down at the bar, picking at a bit of dried food with one fingernail. It was a long time before he spoke again, but Zoe was patient. She waited him out.

"She's gone," he said, in a voice so small that Zoe almost didn't catch it. "She just left."

"I know," she replied, her voice pitched equally as low.

"And I… I didn't want to feel anything for a while, you know? Is there something wrong with that?" His gaze rose to meet hers, defying her to say anything to the contrary.

She sighed. "No, it's not wrong. I've been there myself." She reached out a hand and placed it gently on his forearm. "But Cap'n has a schedule to keep, and we need to get you back to the ship."

He rolled his eyes, jerking his arm away from her with more violence that she'd expected. "Oh, of course, that's what this is about! The captain's precious schedule. Well, far be it from me to keep him from his oh-so-important crime!"

He gestured wildly, one hand catching the fresh drink that sat in front of him and sending it crashing to the ground, alcohol and glass going everywhere.

"Okay, that's it!" the bartender announced angrily, pointing an accusing finger Simon's way. "That's the second glass you've broken tonight. You're done. I want you out of my bar now!"

Simon opened his mouth, undoubtedly to argue, but Zoe cut him off with a terse, "Don't worry; we're leaving."

She grabbed the doctor by the arm and began to steer him toward the door, but he jerked free of her grasp.

"I'm not going with you," he exclaimed hotly. "There's another bar next door," he added, shooting a glare over her shoulder toward the bartender. "I'm sure they'll be more than happy to take my money."

She smiled, though it lacked any real mirth. "I don't think that'd be a very good idea right now, Doc."

"Well, I didn't ask what you thought, did I?"

At her disapproving look, he added, "I can take care of myself, thank you." Though the way he swayed unsteadily to one side belied his words.

Zoe grunted. "Fine. We'll just have to do this the hard way, then."

Simon barely had a chance to furrow his eyebrows in puzzlement before she'd punched him square in the face. His head rocked back on his shoulders, and he went down like a sack of wet mice.

The bartender gave her an appraising look. "That's a mighty fine right hook ya got there, Miss. But if you think I'm gonna help you carry him outta here, you'd best be thinkin' again."

Zoe smirked at him and tossed a couple of coins on the countertop to cover Simon's bill.

"Don't worry; I'm stronger than I look."

* * *

When Simon woke up, he noticed three things right away. He had a splitting headache; he was lying in a strange bed, and he was completely naked. And while he was concerned about the first two, he was understandably worried the most by that last one.

"You're awake," a familiar voice remarked blandly.

Simon turned his head – fighting to keep a wince off of his face when the entire world seemed to spin in dizzy circles at even the tiniest movement on his part – and spied Zoe sitting in a chair across the room. A room he definitely shouldn't be naked in. "Where…?" he began, swallowing when his dry throat protested against him speaking.

"My quarters."

"How long have I been out?" he croaked.

"Almost 16 hours. I was startin' to worry a bit."

She stood and crossed over to the sink, quickly filling up a glass of water and bringing it to him. "Drink. You're dehydrated."

He shot her a mildly annoyed look – Who was the doctor in this room, anyway? – but accepted the glass without too much of a fuss. He really was thirsty.

He'd drained almost half the glass before he even realized it, and then she was gently pulling it out of his hands. "Don't wanna make yourself sick," she said, setting the glass on a nearby table and then perching beside him on the bed. He was acutely aware of his state of dress – or undress, as it were – and tugged a little on the sheet to keep it from slipping any further past his waist.

A moment later, a cool hand rested against his forehead, gently turning his face to the side. Deft fingers moved over his temple, and he winced when they encountered what was likely going to be one hell of a black eye, if it wasn't already.

"Sorry about that," she murmured, though she didn't really sound all that contrite. "It's a nasty shiner."

Her fingers brushed his hair out of his face, lingering for a minute against his cheek, and he had to fight to keep from leaning into her touch like some kind of attention-starved puppy. An attention-starved naked puppy, in point of fact, and why was he naked again? That seemed like a really, really important question all of a sudden.

"Why, exactly, am I not wearing any clothes?" he blurted out, unable to keep from blushing from head to toe as soon as the words were past his lips. He was suddenly very glad that the lights were turned down low in what was obviously a concession to his hang over.

"You mean you don't remember last night?" Zoe asked, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"Um… I… er…" Simon stammered, trying to think of something to say. Nothing was coming to mind, and oh god, he was about to get punched in the face again, wasn't he? He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

But after a long moment with no physical violence whatsoever, he cracked open his good eye and caught sight of her face. A face that was currently struggling valiantly to hold back laughter.

"Oh, god," he groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, god!" he exclaimed a second later, ripping his hands away from the painful bruise on said face.

That was apparently the last straw, because Zoe began to laugh in earnest, almost doubled over, her shoulders shaking as peals of laughter escaped her normally-stoic exterior.

"Oh, you should see your face, Doc," she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's priceless."

Simon made a petulant face. "Well, I'm glad I'm able to amuse you."

Once she'd gotten her laughter more or less under control, Simon asked her about the clothes again.

"Your clothes smelled like yi da tuo dabian," she told him with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "I wasn't about to let you in my room like that. I'd be smelling it for days."

"Which begs the question…" he began, arching an eyebrow in her direction.

"Cap'n and I were afraid you'd throw up," she replied easily, "so it seemed best to have you in a room with its own facilities. Ain't nobody around here that wants to clean up after you should you lose your lunch on the way to the washroom."

"Oh, god," he moaned, looking down at his hands in abject horror. "Everybody knows what happened last night, don't they?"

Zoe shrugged. "Ain't the first time somebody on this boat's gotten drunk over lost love, and I reckon it won't be the last. You got nothin' to be ashamed over."

He nodded, trying desperately to believe her.

"Well, except maybe for when you serenaded the captain in the middle of the galley. Your sister and Jayne were mighty amused at your choice of song, though I think the captain had a bit of a problem with being referred to as your 'fair princess.'"

He stared at her for a long, hard moment. "You're… bluffing, right? Please tell me you're bluffing."

The corner of her mouth turned up into a smile, and he sighed in relief, sinking back down onto the pillows. "Oh, thank god, you made it up. I would've had to consider ritual suicide otherwise."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, looking down on him with a fond smile. "You got clothes over by the sink," she told him. "I had your sister bring you some fresh ones."

He nodded. "Thank you." Luckily for Simon, Zoe was a smart woman. She understood that the 'for everything' was implied.

"I'm heading up for dinner. You should join us if you're feeling up to it."

He waited until the hatch closed with a clank before slipping out from under the covers and going over to the sink to change and wash up.

* * *

He made it to the galley just as everyone was starting to clean up. "Looks like I missed dinner," he remarked with a small smile, which grew slightly bigger when River ran to his side and gave him a quick hug.

"Don't worry, ge ge," River told him, taking him by the hand and pulling him over to the table. "Saved you some."

She pulled a plate of food out and set it in front of him with a small flourish.

"Thank you, River," he replied, silently ordering his traitorous stomach to behave so he could have dinner. He was starving, but he had no desire to see his share of the protein bars decorating the deck plates.

"Sure is quiet in here," Jayne announced, just as Simon was raising his first bite to his lips. He gave the mercenary an odd look.

Catching his eye, Jayne leered at him and added, "I don't know about the rest of ya, but I reckon a little music might be nice. Wha'da'ya think, Doc?"

Simon felt all the blood drain from his face, but tried to soldier on. "Um, actually, I'm rather fond of peace and quiet, myself," he murmured, before shoving his fork into his mouth and chewing the suddenly tasteless bite resolutely.

"Weren't what ya said last night, though, was it?" Jayne replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Simon stoically refused to comment, instead shoving another bite into his mouth and chewing as if his very life depended on it.

Just then, Zoe began to hum a distressingly familiar tune, and Simon nearly choked on his dinner. Turning a betrayed gaze her way, he muttered, "Ritualistic suicide's sounding pretty good right now."

She smiled at him, the picture of innocence. "Shut up and eat your dinner, Doc, unless you want a second black eye to go with the first."

Simon, being an especially wise man, chose option A. He shut up and ate his dinner.


End file.
